


We Woke Up and We Won't Fall Back Asleep

by elleniumfalcon



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleniumfalcon/pseuds/elleniumfalcon
Summary: “Eddie… She’s controlled every move in your life and she could have killed you. That… that’s not just something you can brush off. I… Yeah, Tom was an asshole. He’s this carbon copy of my father and I just went along with it. And, let me tell you, it took me way longer than I’m comfortable admitting to realize that. I made excuse after excuse for him, just like I did for my dad, trying to figure out all the ways that it could be my fault.”“It was never your fault, Bev,” Eddie’s voice came out as a choked whisper and he nuzzled closer to her. “It wasn’t then and it isn’t now.”“Then why are so convinced it's yours?”---Beverly helps Eddie through one of the biggest decisions of his life.
Relationships: Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	We Woke Up and We Won't Fall Back Asleep

**Author's Note:**

> This contains some pretty heavy content, none of which I take lightly and all of which I know personally.
> 
> If you or someone you know is involved in a toxic/abusive relationship, please reach out for help, even if it is just to me.
> 
> You can find me on twitter @elleniumfalcon and tumblr @creepywifecreepylife. My inbox is always open.
> 
> And remember, it is never your fault and you are worthy of love.

Perched on a bench just outside of Derry Memorial Hospital, Beverly had the perfect view of the sunrise. The blue-black of the night sky gave way to soft pinks and deep oranges, the stars twinkling out one by one above her. A soft breeze blew past her, carrying the smoke from her cigarette up up up and away and jostled her hair against her cheek like a gentle caress. Like the universe was telling her _ ‘it’s okay, you can relax now’ _ .

Seventy-two hours ago, she didn’t remember this place existed. She couldn’t place names to the vague faces that starred in her dreams, couldn’t understand why they made her smile. But when they were all crowded around the Jade’s dining table, it seemed impossible that Beverly had ever forgotten. How could she forget her boys? 

The days and hours had dragged and flown since then. Treasure hunts and haunted houses, chants and clasped hands, near misses and close calls. Some - Eddie - closer than others. Beverly hadn’t really caught what had happened, being a little preoccupied with keeping her own ass alive. One second, Eddie’s talking Richie out of the Deadlights and the next, Richie is carrying him and there’s so much blood. In the end, IT was gone for good and the Neibolt house had crumbled around them. She couldn’t remember who called the ambulance to take Eddie, but no one had argued when Richie climbed in after him. They’d ran back to the library, climbed haphazardly into Mike’s truck and met Richie in the OR’s waiting room. 

Thankfully, Eddie’s injuries looked far worse than they actually were. The puncture had fractured his clavicle and scapula, but had missed anything vital, and his shoulder had been stitched back up, with a bit of new hardware to boot. It would heal with time. He would have a scar, but at least he would be alive to show it off. Eddie’s surgeon had taken a moment to praise Richie, resting a hand on his shoulder. If he hadn’t been paying attention, if he hadn’t rolled them out of the way when he did, it very likely would have hit Eddie’s lung, possibly even his aorta. He wouldn’t have survived it. Beverly had watched Richie’s throat bob around bile that threatened to spill and had taken his clammy, sickly pale hand in hers. 

The other Losers had all taken turns sitting by Eddie’s bedside with Richie, who, surprising no one, had refused to leave. They took their turns returning to the Townhouse to clean themselves up, to make some phone calls and to attempt to explain the last seventy-two hours to the lives they had left back home. And, finally, roughly 18 hours after his surgery, Eddie had woken up. Bev had just stepped out of the shower when the group chat lit up. 

It was a tear-stained selfie from Richie, flanking Eddie’s hospital bed to the left and with Bill on the right side. They both flashed a thumbs up to the camera. Eddie, looking groggy and disgruntled, flashed the middle finger with his available hand. Bill arrived back at the Townhouse not terribly long after, mumbling something about the two of them needing some alone time.

Two hours later found Beverly in her current spot, stubbing out the last of her cigarette as the moon finally disappeared behind the clouds. She stood up slowly, clasping her hands together and stretching them above her head. Her spine cracked in a way she could only describe as orgasmic and she did nothing to hide the pleased groan that escaped her. Tugging her jacket close to her, she made her way back into the hospital and up to Eddie’s room. 

\---

He was asleep again, curled on his good side, face pressed against his pillow. Richie sat asleep in a chair beside him, curled in half with his head resting on his folded arms. Bev was relieved to see how relaxed the two looked and for a moment, she saw them at thirteen, laying in their sleeping bags at a slumber party, curled towards each other like sunflowers to the morning sky. She smiled at the memory, once more grateful for each one as they reacquainted themselves with her. 

Quietly, she crossed the room, resting a hand on Richie’s forehead, smoothing back a damp curl. 

“Richie,” she whispered, careful not to wake Eddie. She knelt down beside her friend, gently shaking his shoulder. “Richie, wake up.”

Richie’s eyes flew open behind his glasses and Beverly couldn’t help but laugh at how comically large they looked. He blinked a couple times before focusing on her face, a sheepish smile spreading across his lips. He made no attempt to sit up, but gently lay a hand on top of hers.

“Hey, Ringwald. What time is it?”

“It’s just after seven,” Beverly rest an elbow on the bedside and propper her chin in her hand. “I’m here to officially relieve you of your duties.”

“I’m good, thanks, though,” Richie let go of her hand to cover his mouth as a loud yawn crept its way out. He froze in his spot, eyes darting towards Eddie, waiting to see if he’d disturbed him. Once he was sure Eddie was still asleep, Richie pushed himself up to sit. “Fuck, I’m too old to sleep like that…”

“Then go back to the Townhouse and get some real sleep,” Beverly laughed, standing back up. “You deserve a real nap on a real bed and your back does, too.”

She remembered him falling from the Deadlights, the sickening thud of Richie’s body hitting the ground. With Stan’s insistence, he had been examined in the emergency room and diagnosed with a sprained knee and multiple bruises. Nothing that a brace and some heavy duty Ibuprofen couldn’t fix, but they all knew it could have been much worse. 

“Bev, seriously, I’m fine,” Richie shook his head and leaned back in his seat. He rubbed a hand over his scruffy face, pushing his glasses up into his hair. “I’ve absolutely slept in stranger positions. With stranger people, too.”

“Richie…”

Beverly sighed heavily and reached out, gently holding onto his wrist and pulling his hand from his face. She laced their fingers together, giving Richie’s hand a big squeeze. He tilt his head up just slightly, meeting her eyes with a small frown. 

“Eddie’s alright now, Richie,” she gave him a soft smile and squeezed his hand again. “You did a great job watching over him, but he’s okay. You can relax now, we can stay with him for a little bit.”

He looked down at their hands, his thumb idly tracing the freckles on the back of her knuckles. His teeth worried at the corner of his lower lip, rolling the delicate skin back and forth between his incisors. Bev could see him blinking slowly, holding his eyes closed for a couple beats before opening them again. It triggered another memory, a Richie tidbit long forgotten: he was trying not to cry. He was failing. Richie looked down at Eddie’s sleeping face and he let go of Bev’s hand to swipe his thumb below his eyes.

“I um…” Richie cleared his throat and gave a quick, short sigh. “I’ve been having some pretty fucked up dreams, Bev. Y’know. Deadlight dreams.” 

Bev nodded once and could feel her stomach twist into knots. She knew. She’d give anything not to know. 

“They’re not real, Richie,” she whispered, resting her hand on his shoulder. “You made sure they’re not real. He’s here. He’s going to be okay.”

“I know, I know they’re not real. But I just… Fuck, Bev.”

“Fuck, indeed, Richie,” Bev smiled when he laughed and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. Richie hugged her back, nuzzling his nose into her collarbone and she gently set her chin on top of his head. “Go get some sleep. And take a shower because you fucking stink.”

He laughed again, a loud and quick bark, squeezing Beverly just a little tighter. “Okay, okay, fine.” Richie pulled back and winced as he stood up, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a couple hours. Just, y’know, text me if…”

“If absolutely nothing happens, because it won’t?” Beverly gave Richie a quick wink and a finger gun. “Gotcha.”

Richie grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and slid it on, his moves sluggish and heavy. He looked down at Eddie once more and reached out towards the sleeping man. His hand hovered for a moment, fingertips twitching with movements started and stopped repeatedly. She watched him nod once, finally giving himself permission to touch and he smoothed Eddie’s hair from his forehead before leaning down and placing a quick kiss to the smooth skin there. He stood back up with a blush forming on his cheeks, giving Beverly one last shy smile before limping out the door.

Beverly kicked off her boots and situated herself cross-legged in the chair Richie had sat in. She tugged her laptop from her bag and booted it up, preparing herself for the absolute mess of her life that awaited her. Shortly before their descent into the Neibolt house, she had made the decision to turn her phone off and leave it behind in her room. The chances of her making out of this ordeal alive had been fairly slim and she frankly didn’t need Tom’s barrage of messages to be a distraction. But she knew she couldn’t avoid them forever. Immediately, the backlogged messages began to come through.

_ Who the fuck do you think you are, you fucking cunt?! [3:08am] _

_ I fucking made you! You’re nothing without me! [3:08am] _

_ You want to ignore me? Fine. You’ll fucking regret it. [3:09am] _

_ You think I won’t fucking find you?! [3:09am] _

The messages continued to roll in, hundreds of them, each of them a loop of the same threats, promises of what she could expect when she came home. She couldn’t help but scoff at that. When? Like he really expected her to come home after all of this? But, truthfully, she knew he did and it was because she always had before. In ten years of marriage, she had left Tom approximately just as many times. They would fight, he would leave his mark, she would leave, and he would berate her into coming back. Things would smooth over for a little bit and he would shower her with gifts and affection, but it never lasted long.

_ “Are you still my little girl, Bevvie?” _

Beverly shook her head quickly and slammed her laptop shut, rubbing her hands over her face. Eddie flinched slightly on the bed at the sudden noise, his dark brows furrowing together as his eyes slid open. He quickly blinked the sleep out of his eyes, bringing his hand up to rub at them gently. 

“Bev? You okay?” he mumbled, voice hoarse with lack of use.

Beverly’s hands dropped to her lap and an apologetic smile spread across her face. “Hey, Eddie. Sorry if I woke you.” She reached out and gently lay her hand upon his. “It’s good to see you up again. How’re you feeling?”

“Oh, y’know, just north of shitty,” He tried to push himself up into a sitting position, wincing at the pain that ripped through his shoulder. “I think I have a new-found respect for shish kabob. Think you could give me a hand or something?”

Beverly nodded and rested a hand on his back, gently guiding Eddie to sit up in bed, handing him the remote to adjust the bed to his liking. His fingers fumbled with the buttons for a moment before getting the hang of it and he settled into a slight recline. He offered Beverly a ghost of a smile, mumbling a thank you under his breath. 

“How long was I out?”

“I’m not sure,” Beverly gave a half-shrug as she leaned back in her seat. “Bill came back to the Townhome not too long after you woke up. I just sent Richie out a few minutes ago, so extrapolate from there.”

“Good, he fucking reeked,” Eddie scrunched his nose and shook his head. 

A soft laugh bubbled from Beverly’s chest and Eddie gave a small laugh as well. Her smile grew wider as she watched him, unable to help the prick of tears building behind her eyes. He looked so small and so young lying in that bed. He looked thirteen and forty all at once, frail in a way he never truly was and strong in all the ways that Bev always knew he could be. Her throat tightened against her will and she swallowed hard. It really had been too close of a call.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered. Unable to control herself any further, Beverly leaned forward and wrapped him in her arms. It was an awkward hug, trying to avoid his injured shoulder and a bedrail digging uncomfortably into her gut, but it didn’t matter to her. Eddie was alive and it made it the best hug in the world. 

Slowly, Eddie slid his arm around her back, giving her a gentle squeeze in return. “Yeah,” he croaked, clearing his throat. “Me, too.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his temple before pulling back, blinking back her tears. “Oh!” She pointed at him for a moment before grabbing her bag, digging through the deep pockets and pulling out a cellphone. “Bill said you were asking for this. We moved your things into my room after we got back. It should be fully charged by now.”

“Thanks, Bev,” Eddie took his phone from her and turned it on, setting it beside him as he waited. “Last I talked to HR, I was asking for a week’s PTO. Something tells me this might take a little longer,” he nodded towards his shoulder with a short, humorless laugh.

“Do you want me to go? I can give you some privacy if you like?” she pointed towards the door, already getting ready to stand.

“No no! It’s fine,” Eddie shook his head quickly and reached out, resting his hand on hers again. It trembled slightly. His brown eyes were wide, she didn’t think they could get any bigger. “Stay, seriously. Please. I mean, unless you want to go, then-”

“I’ll stay, Eddie,” Beverly smiled and watched him visibly relax. 

Another memory waltzed its way to the forefront of her mind; Eddie hated hospitals. He had followed Beverly to the quarry one day, shortly after their first battle with the clown. His arm wore a fresh cast and Eddie had gone into a rant about his hospital stay after coming home. X-rays, blood work, bacterial cultures, even a fucking spinal tap. All to prove to Sonia that he was fine. Even then she hadn’t been convinced. Beverly had been appalled by what was clearly an overreaction and the fact that the doctors had allowed it. She was even more appalled to learn that this wasn’t a one-off event. In the here and now, Beverly made a silent promise to her friend. Any doctor tried some shady shit with Eddie and she’d have their head and their job.

A loud vibration distracted her from her thoughts and she and Eddie both glanced down at his phone beside her. Much like her computer had pinged and pinged and pinged, his phone continued to vibrate as message after message flooded in. Hundreds of missed calls and dozens of voicemails. All of them from Myra. Eddie had mentioned her only briefly to Beverly after Ben had patched up the stab wound in his cheek. Apparently, she was going to hate the scar and Beverly had playfully offered to get him in touch with her plastic surgeon. 

She had tried to pass off the look of fear that had flashed in his eyes then on the fact that he had just been fucking stabbed. But, seeing it again now, it was much harder to ignore. Eddie took a deep breath, exhaling loudly through his nose before picking his phone. His hand shook as he opened his voicemails, holding the phone to his ear as he played the most recent one. 

_ “Eddie!? Why are you doing this to me, Eddie?! Why are you lying to me? You’re always lying to me! You left your inhaler here, you know you need it! You’re not well enough to be running off like this, you need to come home now! Why do you do this to me, do you like seeing me suffer? I’ve done so much for you and this is-” _

With a loud growl, Eddie hung up the phone and threw it across the room in one smooth motion. It struck the heating unit and bounced to the floor and Beverly gripped the arms of her seat to keep from flinching. He stared at his phone where it landed, his chest heaving with each heavy breath. His eyes suddenly grew wide and his jaw clicked shut, turning to Bev as if he’d just remembered he wasn’t actually alone. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and he looked down at his lap, ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was quiet, strained. “I-I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s fine,” Beverly shook her head and gently gripped his shoulder. 

She had heard the tears in Myra’s voice, but her gut told her not to trust them. She had heard Myra, but had seen Sonia’s face. They were standing in Eddie’s front yard, watching as Sonia practically shoved Eddie into her car, careless of the broken arm she was wailing about. Big, fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she bemoaned her  _ “poor, fragile baby’ _ ” and the _ “disgusting, vile children”  _ who had done this to him. Beverly had leaned down to pick up her dropped keys and the tears had stopped immediately, a venomous smile spreading across her face. Her tears had garnered plenty of attention over the years and she knew how to turn them on when needed. 

Beverly would never say it to Richie, but maybe he had a point about the Oedipal nature of Eddie’s marriage.

Eddie said nothing for a long time, staring down at his lap and picking at the threadbare hospital blanket. Beverly kept her hand in its place, her thumb tracing the gentle curve where humerus met scapula. His mouth fell open once or twice, inhaling sharply to speak before changing his mind. She continued to sit there, waiting patiently. If he wanted to talk to her, that was fine, but she wasn’t going to push the matter. 

When Eddie finally spoke, his voice was shaking. “I don’t lie to her. I haven’t lied to her in years.”

“That’s good,” Beverly nodded her head. “That’s good in a marriage. You shouldn’t have to lie to your spouse.”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Eddie shook his head and picked a pill from the blanket. “I mean I… I  _ can’t _ lie to her. She…” He closed his eyes and gently rolled his head from one shoulder to the next, trying to relieve the tension that was building in his spine. “It was like a year or so after we got married… I told her that I had to stay late to work on a project. I didn’t, I just… I didn’t want to go home. And, like, I couldn’t fucking say that to her, y’know? ‘Sorry, sweetheart, I just need one night where you don’t grill me about how often I used my inhaler or what my fucking bowel movements are like’. So I went out to dinner by myself. And it was the best meal I’d had in a long time. I got the juciest, fattiest fucking burger I could find and I didn’t have to listen about my arteries getting clogged or my cholesterol or any of that bullshit. But when I got home that night, the fucking cops were there waiting for me. I guess she swung by the office to check in on me and when she found out I’d left at my normal time, she called the fucking police to file a missing person’s report.”

“Jesus, Eddie…” Beverly’s eyes widened and she dropped her hand back into her own lap. 

“They threatened to charge her with filing a false police report. I smoothed it over, just said there was a misunderstanding. She kept me up most of the night just screaming at me. That I was ungrateful and trying to give her a heart attack, that she was getting ulcers from the stress of taking care of me… And that this was how I repaid her. She made me call out the next day.” Eddie clenched his jaw and sighed. “She always says I’m hiding things from her, but like, how the fuck can I? She picks up all my prescriptions, she tracks my phone’s location, she calls me like clockwork...”

As if on cue, Eddie’s phone began to buzz once more from the floor. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his good hand over his face. Beverly quickly stood up and crossed the room, picking his phone up and silencing the call. She slid it back into her purse and gently tapped the side of Eddie’s knee with her pointer and ring finger. 

“Scoot over.”

Eddie dropped his hand and gave her a puzzled look, but obeyed. He shifted to the other side of the bed gingerly, resting against the mound of pillows behind him. Beverly climbed up onto the bed and settled in beside him, her legs stretched out in front of her, ankles crossing. She reached over and gently took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together so their palms lay flush, resting them on her thigh. Beside her, Eddie seemed to instantly relax. The tension slid from his body and he sagged in his seat, resting his head on her shoulder. Beverly’s free hand came up to gently cup the side of his face, careful to avoid the sutures in his cheek. Her thumb rested behind his ear and her fingers splayed across the base of his neck, rubbing soothing circles into knotted muscle. 

“Eddie,” she tilted her head, resting her cheek on the top of his head. “You know you don’t deserve that, right?”

“I lied to her, Bev.”

“Yeah, once! And like, as far as lies go, that’s nothing,” Beverly shook her head and nuzzled her nose into his hair. It smelled too sterile, but his nurses had done a wonderful job getting the sewer out of it. “What she’s been doing is a gross overreaction and you know it. This is gaslighting 101, Eds!”

His jaw clenched tightly once more and he could feel the sting of it in his cheek. She wasn’t wrong, and he did know it. Eddie had briefly seen a grief counselor after his mother passed away. He had told her stories of the isolation his mother had enforced on him during college - not allowing him to stay in the dormitories, forcing him to stay at home with her even after graduation. How he would mention getting a place of his own and the hysterics would begin (‘ _ Eddie-bear, I’ve cared for you all these years, you can’t leave me now…’ _ ). It continued even when she was sick and stopped only with her dying breath ( _ ‘Do you see what you’ve done to me, Eddie. What caring for you has done?’ _ ). It was when he had first heard terms like  _ narcissist _ and  _ gaslighting _ , first believed that maybe they could apply to his life. And then, he met Myra. She convinced him that he was fine, that he didn’t need a therapist anymore. The cycle started all over again. 

“I um… I thought about leaving Myra once,” Eddie spoke again, his voice flat and distant. “I knew I wasn’t happy. I told her I wasn’t happy, called a lawyer and everything. That night, I got really sick. Like, couldn’t leave the bathroom, burst a blood vessel and puking blood sick. I ended up in the hospital on fluids for a couple days. They said it was a new allergy to something I’d eaten, but um… I-I found a bottle of ipecac syrup in the back of the pantry a couple weeks later. I um… I dropped the subject after that.”

Bev couldn’t stop the strangled sound that caught in her throat and the way her hands trembled. Her fingers buried themselves in Eddie’s hair, pulling him closer to her. She blinked back tears as she pressed kiss after kiss to the top of his head. 

“Eddie… Eddie, I,” she shook her head and squeezed his hand tight. “I’m so sorry.”

Eddie shook his head and let go of her hand, his fingers stretching up to ghost over the blues and yellows that mottled her forearm, the fingerprints embedded in her wrist. “It could be worse, Beverly…”

“This isn’t the fucking trauma olypmics, Eds! We’re not in competition here!”

“She never hit me…”

“Eddie, she  _ poisoned  _ you,” just saying the word left bile burning in the back of her throat. 

“I don’t have definitive proof that she did, Bev…”

“And you don’t have definitive proof that she didn’t, either! Eddie, you’re absolutely overdramatic, but you’ve never been one to throw around baseless accusations,” Beverly’s hands whipped through the air as she talked, her voice getting more manic. “You study statistics for a living. Statistically speaking, what is the likelihood that you finding ipecac syrup in the kitchen after getting violently ill is just a fucking coincidence?!”

Eddie gave a small, defeated sigh. “Pretty slim.”

Beverly nodded once and let her hands fall to her lap. “Eddie… She’s controlled every move in your life and she could have killed you. That… that’s not just something you can brush off. I… Yeah, Tom was an asshole. He’s this carbon copy of my father and I just went along with it. And, let me tell you, it took me way longer than I’m comfortable admitting to realize that. I made excuse after excuse for him, just like I did for my dad, trying to figure out all the ways that it could be my fault.”

“It was never your fault, Bev,” Eddie’s voice came out as a choked whisper and he nuzzled closer to her. “It wasn’t then and it isn’t now.” 

“Then why are so convinced it's yours?” She couldn’t hold her tears back any longer, could feel them slip past her lashes. “It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t hit you. Just like it doesn’t matter that your mom never hit you. It’s not about the kind of hurt that we suffer, it’s about how it makes us feel. How we feel about ourselves because of it, how we perceive ourselves afterward. And… we’ve been done so wrong, Eds.”

Beverly could feel Eddie’s breathing hitch against her side and she slid her arm around his back, carefully pulling him close. He buried his face against her neck, hot tears dampening the collar of her shirt. Her fingers dance over him, rubbing softly at his side, stroking his hair, trying to offer some sort of comfort. In a way, it was for herself, too. She closed her eyes and all she could see was Eddie, blood pouring from his pale lips. In the cistern, in a posh New York City kitchen, in the bed beside her. Feeling him tremble beneath her hands, his breath hot on her neck reminded her that he was here. He was safe. She was safe, too.

“How did we let this happen Bev?” He whispered, swallowing down a hiccup. “ _ Why’d  _ we let it happen again?”

“I’d love to sit here and say that It did this to us,” Beverly sniffled softly and blinked her eyes quickly, trying to clear them. “That It made us forget everything, made Tom, made Myra feel familiar. But, I don’t know if I can. Not entirely, at least. We… that’s all we’ve known, Eds. The only example of love we’ve ever known is a love that hurts us. It’s… it’s what we do.” 

It’s what she had reminded herself of from the moment she left her ring on the stoop; hurt children go on to hurt others or get hurt again. It helped to snuff out the guilt she knew she shouldn’t feel. Leaving Tom had been far beyond an act of bravery. It was self-preservation. It was taking a hammer and smashing the chain that shackled her to that god awful cycle. No matter what happened to her in Derry, she would never feel the touch of Tom Rogan - or Alvin Marsh - ever again.

  
  


Eddie’s breathing was starting to get under control again, his body relaxing against her, but his tears still fell. He reached up and brushed his thumb under his eyes, swallowing hard. 

“I can’t go back, Bev. I… I won’t.”

“Good. I’m not going back, either. We can share my lawyer.”

He let out a small laugh as he pulled away from Beverly. His cheeks and nose were ruddy and his eyes were puffy, but his face was carved with determination. She had seen that look on his face so many times when they were kids, while hurling stones at bullies, securing a spot in the hammock, kicking a downed clown. He was her Brave Little Toaster and he always would be. “Can you hand me my phone?”

“You want to call her? Now?” Beverly knit her brows together. “Honey, you just woke up, maybe you should give it-”

“Bev,” he cut her off with a hand slicing through the air, landing palm-up. “If I don’t do it now, I never will.”

Beverly smiled at him, small and understanding. This was him leaving a ring on the stoop. This was him smashing a picture frame against a face. This was his moment. She untangled her arms from him and climbed out of the bed, snatching her purse off the floor. His phone was warm in her hands, a new batch of voicemails fresh on the screen and she pressed it against her chest. 

“I’m proud of you,” she held his phone out to him. “You know that, right?”

Eddie gave her a bashful smile as he plucked the phone from her hand, thumbing at the screen. “I… Don’t be proud yet. But, thanks.”

Beverly nodded and slung her purse over her shoulder, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. “Okay, I’ll just be in the hall if you need me.”

His head shot up from where he had been looking at the screen, eyes frantically wide. If his pupils could get any bigger, she was sure she could see the gears in his brain turning. His hand darted out, clutching her wrist and he shook his head quickly. “D-don’t go. Please? I… I can’t…” He was crying again and it made Beverly’s heart sink to her stomach.

“Okay,” she whispered, quickly climbing back into the bed, collecting him in her arms again. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.” She peppered kisses to his forehead, to his temple, his cheek. “I’m here. You can do this.” 

Eddie sniffled and rubbed his nose with the heel of his hand, nodding quickly. With shaking hands, he pulled up Myra’s number and with a deep, wavering breath, he hit the dial button, putting the call on speaker phone. He crossed his legs in front of him and before he could lay his phone down, Myra’s voice filled the room. 

“Eddie!? Thank God! I’ve been calling for days! Two days!”

“I’m sorry, Myra. I… I’m okay!”

“You sound upset. Eddie, what happened? Why are you…” there was rustling on the other end, a keyboard being tapped at. “Why are you in Maine?”

Eddie gave a short sigh and scratched at his temple with his thumb. His head was pounding, every heartbeat sending a pulse of pain behind his eyes. “I told you I was going to Maine, Myra. I had to come home, my friends needed me.”

Beverly felt her heart flutter and she pressed her lips together to keep from sobbing suddenly. Home. He’d called this home back in the clubhouse, too. At first, she had thought he meant this hellish town. But sitting here, holding his hand, she began to understand.  _ They _ were home.  _ The Losers _ were their home. 

“What friends?” Myra scoffed. “You’ve never mentioned these people before. Who is this Mike, why did he make you crash your car? Why have you been avoiding me?” 

“They’re friends from school, Myra. When I was little. He… He didn’t do it on purpose, just gave me some bad news, that’s all. I had to come back and help him. A-And I’m not avoiding you, I’ve been...” He swallows hard and closes his eyes before speaking again, preparing himself for the fallout. “I’m in the hospital, Myra.”

“The hospital?!” She gasps and sputters for a moment, and Beverly can hear tears. “Eddie, what happened? Are you okay, what’s wrong? What did you do?”

“I’m okay, I’ll be alright. I... “ He looks over at Bev with wide eyes and she quickly mouths ‘support beam’ while pointing to his shoulder. “I got hit by a support beam. I was in an old house, it collapsed around us. I… I broke my collarbone and my shoulder’s pretty messed up. But I’m okay.”

“What on Earth were you doing in some decrepit building? Do you know what is in those places? All the dust, asbestos, you left your inhaler here! I… I’m coming down there. We’ll get you transferred back to New York, we’ll get this tak-”

“Myra, I can’t go back,” he chewed on his lip and shook his head to himself.

“What are you talking about, Eddie-bear? Of course you can. We’ll get you home, I’ll get you in with Dr. Norton, we’ll get specialists if we need to. I’ll take care of you.”

“No, Myra. I’m…” Eddie took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m not coming back. I’m… I’m filing for divorce.”

The line was quiet for a few beats and then a small laugh tittered through. 

“Eddie. You’re confused. You must have a concussion, sweetie, you’re not doing that.”

“No, Myra, I’m not confused. And my head’s fine. Right?” He asks the last part under his breath, glancing over at Bev, who nods a confirmation. Surprisingly, he’d managed to dodge any head injuries. “I’m not coming back to you. I mean it, this time. I can’t.”

“Eddie, listen to yourself. You’re delirious. Delusional. You need me, Eddie. Who else is going to take care of you?”

“I don’t need taking care of, Myra!” His voice is louder than he wants it to be and he closes his mouth so quickly his teeth click together. “I don’t. There’s… There’s nothing wrong with me, I don’t need to be cared for. It’s all bullshit. You know it and I know it.”

In the deafening quiet on the other line, Eddie and Bev can hear the change in Myra’s tone. Gone are the crocodile tears and the voice that speaks again is cold, dripping with vitriol. 

“Do you know what I’ve sacrificed for you, Eddie? Vacations, PTO, time with my family. All to take care of you. Because that’s what a good wife does. She cares for her husband, through sickness and in health. Who was there for all of your asthma attacks? When your blood pressure gets out of control? Who stayed by your bedside when you were so sick?”

“Who fucking made me that sick, Myra?! Answer that one for me!” Eddie snatched his phone up from his lap, his fingers white-knuckled as he gripped it. “You can’t do this to me anymore. I’m not going to allow it. I’m filing for divorce and that’s final.”

“You can’t do this to _ me _ , Eddie! You need me! I’m all you have! If you think I’ll let you do this to us, you’re crazy!” 

“Then call me crazy, because I’m doing this. Goodbye, Myra.”

“How dare y-”

Eddie hung up the phone, cutting her off and dropped his phone to his lap like a hot coal. Propping his elbow on his knee, he buried his face in his hand, struggling to get his breathing under control. He did it. He fucking did it. He felt like he’d just ran a marathon with zero training, his lungs burning, his stomach rolling. Really, really rolling.

“Bev,” he sat up quickly, clapping his good hand over his mouth and frantically nodding towards the blue emesis bags hanging in a dispenser on the wall. 

Beverly grabbed the bag quickly, holding it under Eddie’s face just in time for him to gag. He gripped the bag with a shaking hand as he was sick, Beverly helping to keep it in place. When he was done, he collapsed back against his pillows, hissing at the pain that shot through his shoulder, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I… Thank you,” he croaked out, swallowing hard. 

“No problem, Richie,” Beverly teased as she tied the bag off, walking to the biohazard bin and disposing of it. She snatched her water bottle from her purse before sitting back down beside him. Eddie’s hands shook as he took the bottle from her and she watched him take small sips. “Eddie…Can I be proud of you now?”

Eddie set the water bottle on his tray table and gave her a small, frail smile. “I guess… Only if you’re proud of yourself, too.” 

“I am,” she nodded and brushed the sweaty hair from his forehead. “I’m really proud of us. We’re… we’re gonna do this. Together, I promise.”

Eddie nodded once and let his eyes close, leaning gently into her touch, her fingers cool against his flushed skin. He pressed against Beverly’s side once more, resting his head on her shoulder. Her arms snaked their way around him once more, pulling him as close as she possibly could. “ ‘m tired,” he mumbled.

“You’re allowed to be,” Beverly laughed lightly, reaching down to tug the blanket up and around them. “Take a nap. You’ve earned it.”

“I’ve been sleeping for, like, the better part of a day, dude,” Eddie glanced up at her for a moment, blowing a piece of her hair from his face. 

“Yeah, well, it’s been a pretty fucked up day,” she shrugged the shoulder not currently occupied by his head. “I think a nap is in order. Shit, I’ll even join you.”

“Fair.” Eddie gave a small shrug of his own, too tired to really argue it any further. Curling his good arm behind her back, he closed his eyes once more, letting the weight of the last few days - the last few decades - begin to slip away. “I love you, Bev.”

Beverly smiled to herself and once more kissed the top of his head. “I love you, too, Eddie.”

\--- 

“You guys gonna be alright here for a second? I was hoping for a more dramatic and expedient exit, but I had to park in fucking dick nowhere,” Richie rolled his eyes and shoved his hands down into his pockets. 

“The fuck were you gonna do?” Eddie asked, lowering himself slowly on to the bench. “Pull me into the car and fucking speed off into the night?” 

“Oh yeah, total drive-by kidnapping sort of thing,” Richie smirked. “Bev was gonna drive and I was just gonna yoink you in without stopping.” 

“I’m literally broken, Richie. Also, shut the fuck up, you’re like 5 rows back. ”

“You  _ were _ broken, Eds. Now you’re a fuckin’ cyborg!” Richie pulled his keys from his pocket and jerked his thumb towards the parking lot. “And yeah, true, but that’s like three miles on a busted knee, so you’re welcome. Just sit your Go-Go Gadget ass down and relax.”

Bev laughed loudly and Eddie audibly groaned; Richie smiled wide, absolutely counting it as a win. With that, he turned around and made his way towards his car, balancing the myriad of Eddie’s get-well-soon gifts from the Losers. Beverly took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked down at Eddie. He had adamantly refused the wheelchair upon discharge and while she knew he would never admit it, he was exhausted from the walk. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes a little hazy as they followed Richie’s path.

“Hey,” she reached out and ruffled his hair lightly. “Y’okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie tore his eyes away from Richie’s retreating form, looking up at her with a tired smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just glad to get outta here, y’know?” 

Beverly nodded and sat down beside him, pulling him into her side for a gentle hug. The current game plan was to head to the Townhouse to pick up the rest of their things, then head to an Airbnb in Bangor that Ben had rented. Eddie had a few follow-up appointments set up there in the coming weeks, PT and suture removals mostly. Richie had pretty much invited himself on the pretense that his career was already FUBAR, so what was another couple weeks or so? Once Eddie was cleared to fly, they were going to head back to New York. Bev had already secured an apartment in Manhattan for the two of them to share, having fully meant it when she said they would be tackling this together. They’d already had a Skype meeting with her lawyer, who was willing to take on Eddie as well. Everything was falling into place for them. 

“We um…” Eddie cleared his throat and glanced over at Bev, chewing on his lower lip for a minute. “We made the right decision, didn’t we?”

“We did,” she said without any hesitation. “I know we did.”

Eddie nodded once, small and hesitant, then again with a confidence he couldn’t fake if he tried. “Yeah. Me, too. It’s gonna suck, though. Isn’t it?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Bev laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. “Like, the only solution is going to be getting wine-drunk on a weeknight kind of suck. Grade A shitty.” 

He laughed as well, snaking his arm around her shoulders. “But at least we’ll be together, right?”

“It is a proven fact that misery does tend to love company.”

“Well, that explains the Losers, then.” 

Richie’s new rental - a far more sensible SUV - pulled up in front of the doors at that moment and he lay on the horn obnoxiously, earning some glares from nurses and patients filing in and out of the hospital. Eddie groaned again and Beverly tossed her back in hysterical laughter. Untangling herself from him, she stood up, holding her hand out to Eddie. 

“C’mon, your chariot awaits,” she smirked, pulling him up gently when he took her hand.

“We can leave him at the Townhouse, right?” Eddie smiled back. 

He started to follow Beverly to the car, but stopped short near a flower pot. Eddie looked down at his left hand, pressed close to his chest in a sling, his ring catching in the moonlight. He scrunched his face for a moment, then reached up and slid the band from his finger. Beverly paused a couple steps ahead of him, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched him.

“We’re gonna be alright, right, Eddie?”

Eddie caught her eyes for a moment and then looked back down at the ring that now sat in his palm. Gently, he tilted his hand down to the flower pot, letting the band fall into the soil. He thought, for a moment, of the sewers again, about tossing their tokens into the fire. About how maybe, this was his second chance at completing the ritual, at severing It’s ties once and for all. About finally being able to snap back into the reality that was meant to be his all along.

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded firmly and looked back up at Bev, a smile parting his terse lips. “Yeah. We will.” 

None of this was going to be easy, Beverly thought as Eddie climbed gently into the passenger seat. She settled herself into the back seat and watched the streets of Derry unfold around them. The big picture was always going to stay the same and she couldn’t do anything about that. She and Eddie would always hurt, would always second-guess their worth. But the little changes were already in motion and the ones that followed would get easier every day. When Eddie said they would be okay, she believed him. With all of them together, how couldn’t they be? 

Yeah. They’d be alright.


End file.
